


Discussions Between Professionals

by lateralus112358



Series: Discussion Between Professionals [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lateralus112358/pseuds/lateralus112358
Summary: Dr. Shaw has a visitor.





	

A morgue tends to be a quiet place. 

Which is exactly how its primary (non-dead) resident prefers it. She discovered long ago that patients are infinitely more tolerable when they reach room temperature, and the quality of conversation is absolutely unmatched. Never, not even for a moment, has one of the cadavers on Dr. Sameen Shaw’s operating table complained that she was not sympathetic enough, or bemoaned her lack of bedside manner. Working in a morgue has all the best parts of being a doctor; the intrigue, the search for answers, the careful, precise motions, and none of the unsavory parts. The morgue is quiet; only one heart beats, only one mouth draws breath.

Usually, at least. 

Dr. Shaw enters the procedure room, and finds two bodies on the table. One of them is pale, the pale that comes with death, eyes closed, limbs stiff, clearly qualified to enter Dr. Shaw’s private sanctuary. 

The other body offers no such credentials. Her nearly knee-length black boots tap against the metal of the examination table, the sound echoing around the room. Her legs are crossed and covered in black leather, one of her hands grips the edge of the metal slab, the other holds an apple, and her teeth dig into it with relish. 

“Special Agent Root.” Dr. Shaw says, making no attempt to hide the scorn that surrounds the title ‘Special Agent,’ and the dubiously chosen name/pseudonym/codename ‘Root.’

“Hey, Sameen.” the agent says, throwing her dark hair back with a quick flick of her head. “Did you miss me?”

The doctor makes no response to this question. She slips on her gloves and moves to examine the body. Male, mid-30s, doesn’t look to be in bad shape. “So what have you got for me this time?”

“Hmmm,” Root says, swinging off the table, chunking the remains of the apple at a trash bin, and walking to stand behind Dr. Shaw. “Murder. Thought you might be interested.”

Dr. Shaw continues her cursory examination. “There’s no visible injuries. Poison?”

“Well, this is where it gets interesting,” Root says, moving closer, so that she’s directly behind Shaw, her breath raising hairs of the back of the doctor’s neck. “He had a pacemaker. Heart condition. Someone hacked it, and blew his heart up.”

This gets Shaw’s attention. “You can’t hack a pacemaker.”

“I know.” Root rests her head on Dr. Shaw’s shoulder, the entire line of her body pressed against Shaw’s. One of her thighs nudges in between both of Shaw’s, and she notices the goosebumps rise along the doctor’s arms. “You know, if you’re cold, I could warm you up.”

Shaw pushes back, enjoying the small gasp the special agent lets out as she does so. Shaw walks purposefully to the other side of the table, while Root pouts. “So you’re thinking this is your tech-head psycho?”

“Maybe.” the agent walks to the other side as well. “I could use your professional opinion.”

“I’ll get to it as soon as I can.” Dr. Shaw states, and then, voice neutral, asks, “So after you catch this guy-“

“Or girl,” Root cuts in.

“Or girl,” the doctor continues, voice slightly less neutral. “Are you leaving? What does ‘Special Agent Root’ do when she’s not tracking down serial killer hackers?”

“Aww,” Root says, smiling smugly. “Are you worried you’re going to miss me?”

“I just want to know when you’re going to stop bugging me.”

“Well…” Root begins, as if thinking about her response. “Your city here has a lot of odd things going on. Things the government finds very interesting. Maybe I could stay here permanently.”

She says it offhandedly, but this is obviously something she’s been building up to. “So are you going to?”

“Do you want me to? We could spend more time together. Maybe I could take you out someplace nice.” Root looks at Dr. Shaw with an innocent expression. 

“This guy,” Shaw gestures at the body before them. “Makes better company than you.”

“Hmm,” Root says, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “That’s not what you were saying last night.” She leans on the table, elbows on metal, her head resting in her hands, nominally a posture of thought, but one that is obviously designed specifically to draw attention to the…. really incredibly tight leather pants she’s wearing. Dr. Shaw takes a breath, and tries to keep herself under control. Many bad decisions have begun exactly this way in the past. Root straightens, and moves towards Shaw until they’re touching again, one of her hands brushing away a strand of hair from her face, lingering there, the other running down her body, across her chest, her stomach, and finally between her legs. “Maybe,” Root says quietly, her voice nearly a whisper in Shaw’s ear. “This time I’ll even let you out of the handcuffs.” 

Dr. Shaw draws in a shuddering breath. Root infuriates her, makes her angry and her anger only makes her more aroused. Damned libido, she thinks. And damn those fucking leather pants.

***

Shaw collapses onto her bed, sweaty and breathless. Root lays on top of her, slowly kissing up her neck and under her chin. This isn’t the first time the two have ended up in this position before, but this time, at least right now, Shaw isn’t feeling the regret that usually follows the initial impulse.

“You should stay.” Shaw says, suddenly.

“What?” Root looks up; Shaw doesn’t meet her gaze.

“You should stay here. At least you always bring me interesting cases.”

Root grins, and kisses Shaw on the lips before pulling herself out of bed. “I’ll think about it.” She bends down, again giving Shaw a perfect vantage, picking up the offending leather pants that Shaw had torn off her an hour ago. 

“Hey,” Shaw says, interrupting Root, the pants halfway up her legs. “You can stay for the night.”

Root smiles gleefully, kicks the pants off again, and jumps back into the bed. “You’re going to be tired tomorrow.” She says, slipping her hand between Shaw’s legs again. “Because you’re definitely not getting any sleep tonight.”

“My patients won’t complain,” is what Shaw tries to say, but it comes out as something between a gasp and a moan. 

The morgue is quiet, but Shaw’s bedroom rarely is, these days.


End file.
